


Take Care of You

by OnlyHereForGallavich (orphan_account)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Gallavich, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Mickey, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Post Break Up, Post Season 6, Prison, Sad Ian, fag bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-13 16:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OnlyHereForGallavich
Summary: Ian reminds himself that he chose this, he chose this loneliness and sadness that seeps through his bones and into his eyes and makes Lip counts his pills when he thinks Ian isn’t looking. But it’s easier to forget. It’s easier to blame circumstance and situation for this loss, to tell himself that he didn't have any other option.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> not sure what this is?  
> season 5 happened, but season 6 and 7 didn't.  
> i don't even know with this? maybe i'll make it a short multichap i don't know, what do you guys think?  
> well... enjoy this randomness I guess :)

   Ian likes to count stars when he can’t sleep. It sounds like a lame, gay thing to do, but it makes him feel drowsy on nights when sleep evades him and memories of blue eyes and dark hair haunt him in the darkness. He likes to count the stars; it makes him happy to know that somewhere, Mickey is looking at the same stars as him too. It makes him feel connected to his lost lover in a way that few other things manage to do.

 

    Ian reminds himself that he _chose_ this, he chose this loneliness and sadness that seeps through his bones and into his eyes and makes Lip counts his pills when he thinks Ian isn’t looking. But it’s easier to forget. It’s easier to blame circumstance and situation for this loss, to tell himself that he didn't have any other option.

 

    He thinks of Mickey often; in small, seemingly insignificant moments that bring to mind Mickey’s laugh and snarky comments. He remembers him when U2 comes on, thinking of how Mickey knew all the words to With or Without You even though he pretended he was a hard rock fan. He remembers him when he passes the Kash ‘n’ Grab, mind recalling those golden months when things were good and easy, if just for a little while. He remembers him, and he misses him so much.

 

    The radio silence from Mickey is not unexpected, but it still hurts. Ian’s name isn’t on Mickey’s visitation list, and Ian feels lost and bereft.  There has been nothing since that first voice message he got a week after Mickey was arrested, the message that he listened to like it was a ritual every night for months after.

 

    _Still alive. In fucking prison. Don’t know why I called you. Fuck you, Gallagher. Fuck you so much._

There was nothing after that. Ian was left hoping they would stay connected through the shitty old phone, but there was nothing else. He keeps it under his pillow just in case, though, every night after listening to the message.

 

     One day, Debbie picks up the phone, thinking it’s hers and deletes the message by mistake. Ian loses it, just a little bit. He lies down to listen to the message, but it’s _gone,_ it’s fucking _gone,_ the last piece of Mickey he had left. He screams and he cries and he breaks one of his ROTC trophies and he can’t stop Fiona from sending him to the clinic this time. He meets his therapist, tells her nothing, and goes to bed like a zombie.

 

    Since then, Ian counts stars. He climbs up to the roof of the house and lies down there. He wonders how his family will relate this activity to his bipolar- probably suicidal tendencies. Ian knows they mean well. Still, it tires him that they relate everything to his condition. But he’s also too tired to fight them on it.

 

    Sometimes, he walks down to the Milkovich house, and just looks at it. Creepy? Probably. But he’s too far gone to care. The house looks the same as always, though both time and circumstances have changed astoundingly. Once, Iggy walks out just as Ian is about to leave. The blonde boy looks high off his ass, the same as he looked all those years ago when Ian had cohabitated with him for a while. Nothing changed for Iggy Milkovich, even though Ian has practically become someone else. “Shit, Gallagher?” he asks, words slurring, just like Ian’s thoughts are. “You ever see my brother around? Haven’t heard from that fucker since he got arrested.”  Ian doesn’t answer. He doesn’t answer, and he walks away, ignoring the confused _what the fuck_ that follows him. He throws up on some street corner on his way back, and doesn’t go to the Milkovich house again.

 

     The ballad of Svetlana and Vee, and their relationships explosive demise are all well known to Ian, having heard Fiona complain about that _backstabbing bitch_ more than once. He saw the huge fire where Vee lit up all of Svet’s things, but she must have missed some. She must have missed some, because one day while Kev is clearing out the old Rub ‘n’ Tug room, he brings down a box of her things. Vee curses at it, opens up a bottle of cheap liquor to light it up, but Ian catches sight of something that makes him stop her. He shouldn’t be in the Alibi at all, alcohol doesn’t mix well with his meds, but thank god he came.

 

     He pulls out the soft pink cloth, much to the confusion of the onlookers. A thousand memories attack him at once, Mickey kissing the top of his head, Mickey curling up with him at night, Mickey saying he looks shitty in pink when that’s really not true. He doesn’t drink his numbing beer that night, because he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need alcohol to hold him up that night, because this piece of Mickey does. He holds it to his nose, and he’s not sure whether Mickey’s smell actually clings to the cloth, or it’s just wishful thinking. He doesn’t care; he’ll take it either way. If it _is_ a hallucination, he will welcome it with open arms.

 

    This time, he doesn’t leave it out to be found by a baby sister, or invaded upon by someone else. He stuffs it into the farthest reaches of his cupboard, He wishes he could wear it, but it’s far too small for his body. He thinks of Mickey reaching up on his toes to kiss him, thinks of him reaching for things in high cupboards, and calling to Ian for help and he feels like he’s losing Mickey over and over again, every day. He wants Mickey to kiss him again, he wants him to call Ian for help, and Ian swears that this time he _will_ give it where it’s needed. But he’s too late, he’s too fucking late and god he’s lost him; he’s lost the only person he has ever loved.

 

    It presses down upon him; it feels like a physical weight on his chest that just won’t let up. Ian doesn’t stop living; he can’t afford to, with his job and the constant gaze of his family. He smiles and laughs, he even cracks jokes sometimes. He throws himself into his work, rising up the ranks to becoming Sue’s right hand man just to distract from the pain he can’t fix, by fixing that of others.

 

    He trains and prepares and he becomes the best _damn_ EMT because he seems to have failed at everything else. But nothing could have prepared him for the day he gets a call to go to the prison Mickey is being held at, where he finds that precious, most beloved person beaten and bruised in a way that reminds Ian far too much of how Mickey would look after Terry had at him. It didn't even take longer than a couple of months for prison to tear the unexpected goodness of Mickey apart.

 

    Ian doesn’t leave Mickey. He stays with him this time, tracing that broken face with his eyes in case he is banished the minute they open. Ian reads the file on the attacks through blurry eyes and constricted throat. _Fagbashing,_ it claims, _attempted rape._ The guards found him in time, but jesus, if they hadn’t. Ian feels so angry at those faceless idiots who even let it get this far, but mostly he just feels angry at himself. Mickey’s been granted freedom, what with a mixture of reduced charges and medical furlough. But this won’t be like all those other times when Mickey went to jail, where they’ll just pick up where they left off. This time, Ian’s not sure Mickey will want him anymore.

 

    When Ian catches sight of those blue eyes for the first time, it feels like breathing air for the first time in months. Mickey doesn’t wake up slowly; he never did do anything half heartedly. He woke up in a rush, sprung into action by those fighting instincts that to some would seem badass, but just break Ian’s heart.

 

    Mickey’s eyes don’t soften when they see Ian; they become like polished steel, hard and unfeeling. It isn’t easy, seeing Mickey look at him that way, but Ian knows he probably deserves it. Ian calls the nurse as instructed, and not a single word passes between them until she’s gone.

 

    “Why are you here, Ian?” Mickey asks, and he sounds like he really doesn’t understand and Ian thinks how? How could Mickey not understand that Ian is here because he loves him, he has always loved him, he always will. But then he realises that maybe Mickey doesn’t understand because Ian broke his heart and left him bleeding in response to his _I love you_ and perhaps hadn’t conveyed that Mickey meant everything to him in the best way possible.

 

    Ian is horrified when he looks back at his actions that day- breaking Mickey’s heart and leaving him to fend for himself against Sammi. Ian doesn’t recognise that version of himself, doesn’t want to see himself that way. He doesn’t want _Mickey_ to see him that way.

 

    “We take care of each other,” Ian says.

 

    He says this, because Mickey doesn’t seem quite prepared to hear all the pent up confessions of love quite yet. But Ian is willing to wait.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm thinking this is going to be a short multichap with 5-ish chapters?

    Mickey stays in the hospital for three weeks. Seems like bullshit to him, someone who got even broken bones and dislocated shoulders patched up at home through quick, cheap fixes. A dislocated shoulder didn't warrant more than his dad harshly pulling it back into place, no warning or comfort. Broken ribs and noses were just casually bound up, and then it was just cross your fingers and hope for the best. Here, they kept him in to make sure the bones healed right and his internal bleeding stopped. Mickey wishes he could tell them that what was _really_ crooked and hurting inside him couldn’t be fixed with their pills and x-rays.

 

    But it’s a month of free board and food, courtesy of the government that let him get injured in the first place. Mickey doesn’t complain. He knows that that month is as far as the guilt of the higher-ups extends. After that, he's a lowlife with a record, no prospects or support system, destined for a life of scratching together funds and living hand to mouth because Mickey _cannot,_ will not go back to the hell hole that was prison. Mickey will take what he can get.

 

    Ian seems to think that Mickey _has_ a support system, and that it is him. The red head nods along with the doctor’s instructions on dosages and care like he's going to be the one administering them, like he didn't leave Mickey standing on the sidewalk with his heart on the floor just before he got taken away. Like he didn't hurt Mickey so much that he was numb throughout his arrest, nodding his way through a force-fed confession with none of that famous Milkovich fighting instinct.

 

    They’ve developed an easy peace in the last few weeks. Every time Ian shows up in the morning, Mickey feels a shock of surprise and Ian pretends that he doesn’t feel hurt by that. Ian can’t sit around with Mickey all day; he has work as an EMT, saving lives and being a hero the way he's wanted to as a kid. Figures. Ian always wanted to do great things. Mickey always knew he would end up just like all the men of his family. They’ve both reached exactly where they aimed to.

 

    Still, Ian comes to visit Mickey every day before and after his shift, staying around till visiting hours are up. They talk _around_ their relationship; acting like they've never loved each other till it hurt, or hurt each other till that love faltered. Ian doesn’t always like it; scratch that, he never likes it. But sometimes he slips up and _shows_ his hurt and Mickey feels like a monster for dismissing him. Mickey can’t help it, no matter how much guilt he feels. He’s not ready to talk about what existed between them, what got ruined till they've reached here- play acting as _just friends._

Still, no matter how much Ian is turned down, he still shows up. Mickey keeps waiting for him to be done; to decide that enough is enough and he’s not going to wait around anymore. Mickey doesn’t want it to happen, but he knows it eventually will. Ian Gallagher has moved onto bigger and better things. It wouldn’t be long before he wizened up in the relationship department, too. Mickey knew he had already dated some pretty boy fireman. It had only lasted a few weeks, as Ian said, but not all preppy guys would be douchebags. Eventually Ian would find some guy who liked all that chocolate and flowers shit, who would provide more than a guy with a record, and he would move on and be happy. Mickey keeps telling himself to make the most of it; to enjoy the time with Ian he has left.

 

    It isn’t until he is discharged that Mickey gives in. Mickey hadn’t allowed himself to think far enough to where he would actually _live_ after he was released. He figured the Milkovich house, which was now populated by Iggy and his girl. But when Ian (because of _course_ it was Ian) comes to pick him up, he drives in an entirely different direction. He heads towards one of those shitty apartment buildings, but in a good neighbourhood and calmly parks his car outside it with no explanation at all. He picks up Mickey’s single bag, and carries it to a house labelled _23,_ unlocks the door and leads them into a basic apartment that smells slightly of weed.

 

    Mickey watches all this and follows along with mild horror, and a lot of curiosity. It isn't until Ian closes the door behind them that he protests. “What the fuck, Gallagher?” he sounds more confused than aggressive, much to his dismay.

 

    “Your PO told me that the Milkovich house wasn't a good environment for you,” Ian shrugs, “So I thought you should live somewhere better. I’ve had my eye on this place for a while. It isn’t great, but neighbourhood’s safe, and the water pressure is good.” Ian actually looks _nervous,_ like a Milkovich would turn his nose down on any kind of living accommodation. Mickey is still in the _what the fuck_ phase- too shocked to really be angry.

 

   “Who the fuck is paying for this, Ian?” he asks, defeated, “I don’t have any fucking money.”

 

    “I am,” the idiot red head shrugs it off, like they’re a couple that’s been cohabitating and not a somewhat couple that had an ugly break up a little while ago.

 

    Now, Mickey finds himself getting angry. “I’m not going to live off of handouts from my fucking _ex boyfriend,”_ he says sharply, dangerously, punctuating his words with a finger pressed to Ian’s chest.

 

    “I haven’t bought the place. I just took it for the week- owner agreed to let us see whether we want it. I’m not inviting myself in to live with you, Mick. I just want you to be safe.” Ian looks so _sad_ for a moment and Mickey feels like an asshole who told a kid that their artwork was ugly as hell. He wants to smooth out Ian’s crumpled face, to tell him that he _does_ want it; not just the house but Ian, their relationship, all of it. But of course he doesn’t. Then, Ian focuses on the second part of his statement and his eyes narrow. “And don’t do that. Don’t reduce what we had to me being your fucking _ex boyfriend._ I _love_ you-“

 

    “Don’t.”

 

    “I _love_ you and we were family, Mick. You were my fucking family. Ex boyfriends are for rich assholes who go on dates and meet the parents over Christmas. We were _more_ than that shit, Mick.”  


    Ian’s crying now, his eyes overflowing and Mickey wants to make it stop. No matter how much Ian’s hurt him, he shouldn’t cry. Ian should never cry. But Mickey can’t find any words except for angry ones. “Family doesn’t leave family hanging! You can tell me you fucking... care about me now, Ian, but when I was standing on that street begging you to stay, you couldn’t do it! You _left_ me, you _ran,_ and now you’re trying to fix something that can’t be. You can’t fix us! We’re broken! We’re done!”

 

    Ian whines softly, like a beaten puppy and now that Mickey is drained of his anger, he feels like he’s drained of everything. His anger was the only thing holding him up, and now he's folding in on himself, and draping himself over the couch. He's not sure when he started crying but he can taste salt water on his tongue. Ian kneels in front of him, holding both his hands. Mickey watches Ian kiss his knuckles, feeling numb and like he's watching someone else in his place. “Don’t say that,” Ian whispers, “Don't say that. I’m sorry for what I did, I’ll say sorry forever, but _please_ don’t give up on us. I wouldn’t have survived without you Mick. You were my whole world. I ruined it, I broke it, but we can save it. We can save it, I promise.”

 

    Mickey wants to let it go, he's not mad anymore _._ He wants to curl up and be protected by Ian but he’s just so scared that Ian is what he should be protected _against._ He doesn’t want to do it again- doesn’t want to have everything just to lose it; doesn’t want to bask in the sun and then feel lost in the darkness when that sun is eclipsed.

 

    But Mickey doesn’t have the strength to fight it. He buckles, he gives in. He kneels down next to Ian, bumps their wet lips together and even though their kisses have tasted of blood, sweat, lube; they’ve never tasted like tears the way they do now. Mickey bites down lightly on Ian’s lower lip and he moans and Mickey forgets why he fought this in the first place.

 

    Because even if he knows he’s going to lose that brightness, that it will eventually be eclipsed- Mickey would still give everything up just to feel that sunlight on his face.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy x

   Ian doesn’t want Mickey to feel like he’s trying to control him; doesn’t want him to feel forced or pressurised into anything. He tiptoes around heavy topics, or pushy wording, but sometimes he trips up. And the moment things like _next year_ or _dating_ come up, Mickey freezes and locks himself into his body with iron walls up that Ian can’t penetrate. Mickey’s scared of the future, Ian realises, he’s scared of their future, and promises that he’s sure will be broken. So Ian teaches himself patience, the art of waiting for the day Mickey can stop being so scared of commitment.

 

    It isn’t the usual commitment issues they show in movies. Because Mickey already _gave_ himself over to Ian, already lost himself in their relationship only to be burned badly. So Ian can understand why the other boy is so hesitant to do it again. Mickey still watches him like he's going to disappear at any moment and Ian has learnt to school his expression so his hurt doesn’t show on his face. Ian will give Mickey time; even if it’s time that Mickey doesn’t quite believe that they have.

 

    They cohabitate now. After the first night, Mickey tossed Ian one of the two keys and Ian pays the rent, while Mickey (much to Ian’s chagrin) pays for utilities out of whatever he earns from his crappy job as a mechanic. Ian knows it isn’t much, knows that Mickey should save it, but to Mickey, living on handouts hurt his pride far too much. No matter how much Ian tries to hint at them not being _handouts_ at all, but investments in _their_ future, Mickey doesn’t see it that way. So Ian gives up, and takes the money from Mickey every month and doesn’t even try squirreling it away to return to Mickey later. No more games. Their relationship now was going to be one of utmost trust.

 

     So they cohabitate. They kiss, and fuck. Ian tells Mickey he loves him, but only in moments when the other boy is nearly asleep or inebriated because of alcohol. They curl up together at night because night is easy. You don’t have to talk at night, don’t have to decide anything, or try fixing what’s been damaged.  Night is simple to them- it’s when they are just Mickey and Ian and it’s the only time Ian feels like nothing has changed between them. Mickey is still the little spoon, Ian still buries his face against Mickey’s neck, and the other boy holds Ian like he’ll never let him go.

 

    Sex was another thing that always came easy to them. Despite anger and time and separation, that was one aspect which they could separate from the emotional and always pick up where they had left off. This time, that is slightly off kilter. They fuck, yeah, right from the first day they reached the apartment, and it _is_ amazing. They fuck _only_ each other, and they make up for lost time two, _three_ times a day. Seemingly, everything is okay. But there are small things that have changed, and only return to their sex life one by one after some time passes and Mickey becomes more comfortable with the idea of Ian being back with him again. In the beginning, they _never_ fuck face to face, don’t kiss while doing it unless Ian initiates it and never bask in the afterglow. Mickey doesn’t collapse against Ian, worn out and spent. He gets up, cleans himself up; making Ian feel cold and alone on the bed. It feels like Mickey is distancing himself from Ian, making him this easily replaceable entity that he can live without.

 

    It isn’t until months after that Mickey becomes more pliant, inviting Ian back into his trust in the most basest of ways. He lies down and spreads his legs to accommodate Ian, instead of flipping around and ignoring him. He kisses Ian, slow and deep, every now and then, peppering kisses all over his skin like he’s aching for it. And when they finish, he lies against Ian, breath cooling the sweat on Ian’s chest, legs intertwined in the simplest assurance of _being there_ that Ian can offer.

 

    Ian knows Mickey deserves more than what life gives him. Even back when they were kids, he didn't agree with Mickey’s fatalistic approach to life, assuming that he was stuck in the darkness of the Southside until he died. Even now, Ian doesn’t accept that Mickey is going to working at a minimum wage job for the rest of his life. Mickey Milkovich is brilliant and sharp and could make multiple lucrative businesses even in the darkness of the Southside. Mickey Milkovich is fucking _brilliant_ and Ian refuses to give up on him even if Mickey seems to have given up on himself.

 

    Mickey thinks he’s only of use in the world of crime, that his particular brand of smart is only street smart and nothing more. But Ian, Ian doesn’t believe that either. So he starts suggestively leaving his old GED textbooks around the house, on the bed and the dining table. Mickey eyes them, and then eyes Ian sharply. He realises what Ian is doing. Ian can only hope he also realises this could be good for him.

 

    One day, they’re having dinner and they finally talk about it. “You can stop hinting at me getting my GED, asshole,” Mickey says, but without any anger, “Already got it when I was in prison. One of the good things that shithole had to offer.”

 

   Ian, whose heart had sunk at the initial seeming rejection, actually lets out a loud sound of joy that startles Mickey, who almost jumps out of his chair. Ian apologises. He knows loud, sudden sounds make Mickey jumpy since what happened at prison. But then his excitement returns. “Why didn't you tell me?! Why are you still working bad hours at that asshole’s shop?” Mickey doesn’t share in Ian’s elation. He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, because so many people want an ex-con working for them. I’m better off at that shithole where I belong.”

 

    There it comes again. Mickey’s utter lack of self worth. It kills Ian, in as much as it angers him. “You deserve good things, too, Mick,” he says, and his heart aches when Mickey scoffs because no, Mickey Milkovich thinks he deserves nothing and he couldn’t be more far from the truth.

 

    “It’s true. You deserve good things and maybe not everyone will hire an ex-con. But I know people _can._ Look at Fi, she’s working at some big company now,” Ian says emphatically, hoping Mickey will see things from his point of view, “Times are changing, Mick. The North Side’s becoming _progressive,_ or some shit. Not everyone’s gonna turn someone away because they made a mistake, especially since you were wrongfully accused. We can find something together. Anyone’d be lucky to have you, Mick.”

 

    Mickey doesn’t answer for a while, and time freezes in their little kitchen as they just _look_ at each other for a while. Ian can see the conflict in Mickey’s eyes. “Okay,” Mickey finally says, defeated, “We can try looking. But I ain’t doing anything I don’t like.” Ian sees Mickey’s need to be in control in that last sentence; his need to assert the fact that _he_ is making decisions now, and he accepts it. Mickey’s been pushed around so much in his life that now he wants to be his own master. That’s okay. Ian gets it, completely. His favourite thing about his job is the independence it offers him. That night, when they’re about to fall asleep, Ian whispers to Mickey that he’s proud of him and the other boy doesn’t push him away. That makes Ian feel like they’ve achieved something, even if he’s not quite sure what it is.

 

    A month, a billion google searches and six interviews later, Mickey is on his way to his first day working in the accounts department of a publishing company that prides itself in its ‘accepting’ outlook. Mickey tells him that they seemed almost _excited_ when they heard he was an ex-con, like they had been waiting for a chance to reform someone like him. That made Mickey a little unsure about joining the company, not wanting to be some kind of charity case. But Ian just rolled his eyes and told him that he had tested out of math, of _course_ they would want him with or without that tag. Ian feels like his chest swells up as he watches Mickey head into the office, giving Ian a little wave before he disappears. Ian feels so _proud_ of his Mickey, his baby; the person he knows deserves this stable, relatively well paying job more than anyone else.

 

     Weeks later, as Ian picks up Mickey after work, he hears the other boy talking to one of his friends. (Yes. Mickey has friends! A shit load of them, too. Ian is glad that people finally see Mickey’s brand of special the way no one in the Southside ever managed to.) He only hears the last part, probably Mickey answering to an offer for dropping him home. “Nah, man,” he says, “My boyfriend’s waiting for me.”

 

     And if Ian smiles so hard he might have just become a supernova, that’s no one’s business but his. His and Mickey’s.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry it's been a little while. Hope you enjoy x

    Mickey had grown up in a loud, rambunctious house. He is used to noise, he reminds himself every time his shoulders go to his ears when he hears the slightest noise. Once, Ian got up to go to the bathroom at night and brushed Mickey while passing. Mickey shot up, fists raised, mouth opened in a silent scream that didn't quite make it past his throat. That was still in the early days, and Ian knew that he wasn't getting a word of explanation out of Mickey that night. So he just silently passed him, went to the bathroom and didn't question the angry tears that had made their way into Mickey’s eyes, furious at his own weakness.

 

    Mickey isn't fucking _weak._ He doesn't have the time, money or resources to sit around feeling sorry for himself and listing out his daddy issues. He doesn't have the luxury of going to a therapist and talking about his fears and problems- about how some nights, he didn't sleep at all, instead reliving the feeling of the knife piercing his skin, hurting him _just right._

 

He isn’t sure when he stopped thinking of dying as something to be afraid of. Maybe when his mother disappeared after his fifth birthday. Maybe the first time Terry belted him. Maybe when he lost Ian- the first time, the second- both had hurt just as bad. Maybe when he was sitting there in prison, counting days towards the end of his sentence, knowing that nothing better lay at the end of it. Whichever it was, Mickey had long lost the ‘mortal’ fear of death- he didn't fight off those fag bashers that had attacked, didn't try to keep his eyes open when he felt his blood draining from his body.

 

    Mickey thinks that it changing now. Every time Ian blushes when one of their friends makes a marriage joke, or drops hints about getting a dog, Mickey feels like he has something to live for. Three days ago, they met another gay couple who ran an adoption agency, and gave Ian and Mickey their card. Mickey knows not now, but in a few years, he can see a future with a place for a kid in their life, a house of their own. But it isn’t just because of Ian- thought he _is_ a big part of it. Mickey also has friends now, and a job he surprisingly likes. About a month ago, Mickey crossed a street and a speeding car raced just past him. His tie fluttered, as did his heart. He thought, _oh fuck, I don’t want to die._ And that feels like progress to him.

 

   Ian sees Mickey's increasing comfort- sees the small steps Mickey takes towards normality and reducing his paranoia. It takes months before Mickey is comfortable with leaving the window in their bedroom open to let in some air at night. The first time they try, Mickey can’t sleep for fear that Terry, or one of his attackers, will somehow crawl through it and into his life. Into _Ian’s_ life. Mickey doesn’t want to be so afraid- it goes against everything he grew up with- but he can’t escape it. With Ian, he feels safer. Love, he realises, can’t fix it, but it can help calm the storm that sometimes grows so loud in his mind that he has to just _stop_ and breathe for a while.

 

     Mickey isn’t ready to tell Ian he loves him, not when it amounted to nothing the last time he did. Other people may toss around those words, but Mickey, who has only ever heard them from his mother, and now Ian, holds them in much higher regard. And the burn of it being treated like nothing by the one person he cared about the most? It’s a pain that doesn’t fade as quickly as he would like it to.

 

    Ian doesn’t seem to mind, or trains himself well to act like he doesn’t. In the beginning, only used to say it when he thought Mickey was either too drunk or tired to remember, but that’s changed now. He tells Mickey he loves him idle moments. He tells Mickey he loves him when they wake up, when they go to sleep. But most of all, he tells Mickey he loves him when he knows that Mickey doesn’t feel like there’s much reason to.

 

    They work, now. They don’t collapse or stop talking or angrily walk out on each other. Mickey is glad. He isn’t sure he would survive watching Ian walk out of that door again, even if it’s temporarily. He gets sick of it sometimes, actually, feeling like Ian sees him as delicate or fragile and is so _careful_ around him, though it reduces with time.

 

    Then something happens which reminds him just how fragile his belief in their happily ever after actually is.

 

    Ian has a work friend named Andrew. Mickey doesn’t like Andrew- doesn’t like the way he looks too long at Ian and laughs to hard at his jokes. Mickey doesn’t like Andrew because he talks _through_ Mickey like he doesn’t exist, ignores him like he isn’t worth his time. He makes it very clear to Mickey that Ian deserves better, and Mickey can’t fault him. Ian, sweet and oblivious, doesn’t notice anything is wrong. And there really isn’t- Mickey can’t fault Andrew for looking at him the way he does. But Mickey can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt every time Andrew places a hand on Ian’s leg and Ian doesn’t push him away, or when Ian tells him he won’t make it to work because there’s crisis- not a work one, but an Andrew one.

 

    Mickey had jealousy issues when he was younger. It was no surprise- he was a violent thug from the Southside with one good thing in his life- it was no wonder he would hold onto him fiercely. Now, the jealousy burns up his throat, but never makes it out in the violent outbursts it once did. Now, Mickey watches and hurts, but ultimately figures that he knew Ian and him were a short term deal. He knew it the moment they reunited that they would be a fire that would burn brightly and then ebb in comparison to everything else in Ian’s life. It was no one but Mickey’s fault that he forgot.

 

    To Ian’s defence, he doesn’t really do anything wrong. Mickey is pretty sure Ian won’t cheat on him, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay. That doesn’t mean he’ll stay here in this life they have together, and Mickey feels it start to fade again- his purpose. Maybe Ian wasn't the only proponent of that purpose, but he was the only one required to make it fade away.

 

    Mickey resolves to say nothing- to wait for the inevitable. But he crumbles one night when Ian comes home, tipsy and stumbling, without telling Mickey anything before. Mickey stays quiet as Ian undresses and comes to bed, stays silent as they flip off the lights and lie down, not facing each other. Not even a minute passes before Ian switches the lights back on again. Clearly, Mickey’s silence is eating at him.

 

    “Don’t you want to know where I was?” he asks in exasperation. Mickey shook his head tightly lipped. All of Ian’s previous drunken happiness had evaporated completely. He slides out bed, pulling the covers off himself. Mickey watches him, heart beating dully as Ian leaves the room.

 

    “Don't,” Mickey says despite his resolve to stay quiet, and it reminds him of all those years ago, when he hadn’t been able to get the words right either.

 

   Ian turns quickly, almost like he was _waiting_ for Mickey to say something. But he stayed silent. As with the last months, he let Mickey take the lead.

 

    “Please,” Mickey says, not sure what he’s asking for. Clearly, Ian isn’t either, what with the way his eyebrows furrow. Mickey resolves to continue. “Please, I can do better. I know it’s not- that I’m not _easy,_ but I swear I’ll fix it. I’ll fix me.”

 

    Mickey is horrified that his voice comes out covered in tears, but goes on despite the horror on Ian’s face giving him a pause. Is being with Mickey that hard? Mickey doesn’t want to make things hard for Ian anymore. “I know- Andrew, people like him- they can give you more. And you should be with someone like him. But I ain’t- I don’t want you to leave again.”

 

    Mickey’s cheeks are wet; he is aware of his tears’ slow trails down his face. Ian looked wrecked, defeated, and Mickey thinks _this is it, this is when I lose him for good._

Then Ian comes back to bed, his arms come up to circle Mickey’s body, and he sighs, “How could I ever leave you again? How could I want anyone except for you? Why would you even think that, Mickey?”

 

    These are all questions Mickey can’t answer. He hears them, looks at them but can’t put the words together to respond. “I love you so much, Mick. Andrew is just a _friend._ And he can’t give me more than you, Mick. Maybe he has more money. But that’s just stuff- it’s just _things._ You give me so much more than that.”

 

    Mickey is aware of the exact moment he breaks again, because collapsing into the comfort of Ian seems to be a recurring pattern for him. He wonders what it is he offers Ian that the other boy seems to think others don’t. But then he thinks of soft touches and unspoken words and how _easy_ it is to love Ian, and be loved by him. And he thinks maybe he understands.


End file.
